


an ache in you (put there by the ache in me)

by laehys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Constipation, Heavy Angst, M/M, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laehys/pseuds/laehys
Summary: "Hey, it's Jaemin. Please don't hang up on me."He's only met with silence on the other end of the line. At least the call is still connected.Taking a deep breath, Jaemin continues, "Can we meet?"
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	an ache in you (put there by the ache in me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshinefleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinefleur/gifts).



> thank you to the mods for organizing this exchange and for the patience <3
> 
> to my recipient dahlia — i hope you enjoy this! it took a wild turn, but it's finally here and complete! i hope you have a great year!! <3
> 
> also a big thank you to [mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkhhhx) for going over this and doing an amazing work <3
> 
> just a **warning** that there's alcohol abuse and drunken kissing happening in the fic. proceed with caution.

"Hey, it's Jaemin. Please don't hang up on me."

He's only met with silence on the other end of the line. At least the call is still connected.

Taking a deep breath, Jaemin continues, "Can we meet?"

The silence extends for so long that Jaemin worries that the call has been dropped. He pulls the phone away from his ear, glances at the bright screen showing the seconds turning into minutes and lifts the device again, his hands are shaking so much that the phone slips from his fingers and falls on the floor, a loud noise echoing throughout the room before Jaemin scurries to pick it up. He doesn’t even check to see if it has any scratches or cracks before he presses it on his ear again.

“ _Hello_?” Renjun’s voice echoes from the speaker and Jaemin is rendered speechless. He can't move, he can't talk. Although Renjun's voice sounds the same as from the old voicemails Jaemin would play, now Renjun is _talking_ with _him_. It's not an old recording. It's real and it's happening.

When Renjun repeats the same single word, his tone tired, Jaemin blinks and spurs back into action, stammering a "Hey. It's... it's been a while." Renjun doesn't answer and Jaemin gulps. Of _course_ it has been a while—he was the cause for all of it. "I just... uh... just wanted to say I got in into that uni I wanted to go, you know. And... it's my last night here, actually. I'm leaving tomorrow morning and—" Jaemin's voice breaks a little and he tries to clear his throat, fingers losing a little of the already loose grip they had around the phone. "—can we meet? Like—me, you, and Jeno... just... just for one last night?"

This time Renjun answers quickly, a sharp edge to his voice, "This is so fucking unfair, Na Jaemin. You'll get to move on and heal far away, at a new place while I'll be here seeing your ghost everywhere... and then you just want to prod at the wound even more by meeting before leaving? Fucking _hell_." There's silence for a few beats and Jaemin can only breath, his heart beating fast against his chest. When Renjun speaks again his voice falters and he sounds even more tired than before. "And Jeno too... How is this even _fair_?"

Jaemin rubs his face with one hand, biting the inside of his cheek hard until the taste of metal explodes all over his tongue. There's something that's always been running over his mind and, before he can control himself, it slips from his lips, "You know... you could try to get together with him. Have you… thought about that?"

The air hangs heavy between them until Renjun chuckles dryly, goosebumps spreading all across Jaemin's skin. "It doesn't feel right without you there."

And _that_ knocks the wind out of him.

Jaemin didn't know they'd tried that already — it has been something he had worried a lot about how to say, how to even suggest, but to know Jeno and Renjun _had tried_ to work together and hadn't told him... Jaemin doesn't know how to feel about it all. He wants to be petty and point fingers and say _I told you that only two could work on this, I was right, and as soon as I stepped out you guys got together_. But Renjun had said it didn't feel right without him and being wrong scared Jaemin even more than being left out.

Jaemin swallows blood and something bitter down his throat, scratching the side of his neck as he tries to breathe in. Tries to keep himself composed.

"Hello _?_ "

Jaemin's back meets his mattress and he stares hard at the ceiling. “Do you think Jeno would accept to meet me?”

“You know he would," Renjun replies, sighing deep. Jaemin had tried to move stuff out of his bedroom, had tried to change things around, but his ceiling still has paint splattered all over it from when he and Jeno accepted Renjun's invitation to paint a galaxy on it. It hadn't worked well but Jaemin never painted over it. When Renjun speaks next, his voice is nothing more than a whisper and Jaemin bites his bottom lip hard. "I hate how I can’t say no to you."

“It’s the last time,” he tries to reason.

"That’s what we always say," Renjun chuckles dryly and then pauses for a moment. "But I guess this time it is for real, huh?"

Jaemin nods. Renjun can't see him but Jaemin can't bring himself to say anything else. The splattered paint on his ceiling stares back at him, and the idea of Jeno and Renjun trying something together without him runs through his mind. It makes the colorful circle tattooed on his wrist feel like it weighs a thousand pounds and burns.

Still, Renjun always knew him inside out. Always knew what was going on through his mind, for he ignores Jaemin's silence and only says, "I'll call Jeno. Meet us at the usual place in 30?"

“Okay.”

When the call ends, Jaemin locks his phone and turns to the side. The walls are bare besides some washi tape and Jaemin closes his eyes to avoid looking at them. There's always something more, something new that he discovers. Jeno and Renjun are woven so deep into his life that he can't get rid of everything that reminds him of them.

🌇

_The colorful bright lights make Jaemin feel all dizzy and invincible. When alcohol runs through his veins and fills him with false-courage, Jaemin doesn't hesitate; laughing out loud and throwing his arms around Jeno and Renjun, bringing them to the make-shift dance floor, screaming his lungs out to a song he'd never heard before._

_Right there, at that moment, he's powerful and he has the whole world at the tip of his fingers. He smiles and he laughs and he celebrates. There's no reason to fear, there's no reason to overthink. All he cares about is enjoying that moment, chasing after the buzz under his skin and downing in all the sensations that run through his body._

_When he presses Jeno against the bathroom door and kisses him deeply, hands desperately clutching at his sides and trying to touch him as much as he can, Jaemin has no other thought running through his mind but_ Jeno Jeno Jeno. _He needs him. He_ wants _him_ — _he wants him so much it hurts. And when it hurts, the best thing he can do is to down even more alcohol that makes him not think about hurting and longing and only fills him with that bubbling sensation._

 _Lights swim around in his vision. There's blue, and pink, and purple. Sometimes the pink is Renjun's hair_ _and he's the one that's kissing him this time. Jeno is somewhere else_ — _sometimes he's also there, but Jaemin can't remember much. There are glowy specks around the edge of his vision, there's the sensation of being something bigger than a person, and there's a warm body against his. He swallows down something bitter, something sweet; he swallows all his love and all the alcohol he can._

 _He laughs and he hugs and he yells. He's at the top of the world until he isn't_ — _until he's sitting down on the side of a toilet bowl, his head a complete mess and all dizzy, hands running over his face and voices calling his name, someone pouring water down his throat and shaking him awake. The colorful lights are exchanged to a dim white one, the walls and the closed door of the bathroom barely containing the loud music that echoes through._

 _"You're a fucking mess, Jaem." It's Renjun who says that. Jaemin can see him when he pries his eyes open after feeling hands running over his sweaty forehead. Sometimes it's only Jeno who's there with him_. _Sometimes it's them both. "Fucking hell."_

 _Jaemin smiles. Snarls. It's all the same when they're trying to sober him up and stop the good feelings from running through his body. When he's sober he overthinks and he doesn't like that; when he's drunk he can pretend the world is fine and he can kiss the two of them without worrying about anything else. He never remembers the next day_ — _he always pretends he never remembers. And all three of them are aware of that._

_"I don't care!" Jaemin tries to say, but the words don't leave his mouth quite right; a bit slurred, a bit drawled. "I don't care about a single thing!"_

_But Renjun always knew how to get through Jaemin easily. "I think you care_ too _much," he says, and Jaemin's smile wavers in place. "And you know that too."_

_Jaemin momentarily wishes for the distraction that bright lights and bitter alcohol could bring him, just a door away. He likes when he feels free and unafraid — but he doesn't like the aftermath that would bring confrontations and confessions that would just spill from his loose lips. It's his fault, he knows that; he's the one who thought about it all and the one who drank enough to spill all his secrets, not even realizing what he's talking about until he catches himself mid-sentence or after he sees the reaction on someone's face._

_"You don't know a single thing about me," Jaemin says, eyes closing out of his own accord. There are hands on his shoulders, hands tilting his head up and when he blinks his eyes open Jeno is looking down at him with his gaze downcast and a sad smile on his face._

_Another day. Another person. Same routine._

_"Renjun is bringing some water for you," Jeno says — always caring, always reliable, always tender. "Do you feel sick? Do you feel like you're gonna throw up again?"_

_Jaemin feels his entire body burning — because of the alcohol, shame, embarrassment, denial. Everything._

_"I'm fine," he says._

_"You're not," Jeno replies easily. It would be easy to argue with him — it would be so fucking easy, but Jaemin has no strength left so he sags against the wall and looks at the middle of Jeno's chest so he won’t have to look into his eyes. Jeno's fingers are soft when he brushes a lock of hair behind his ear and Jaemin shivers with that. "I don't get why you're like this," Jeno whispers, a confession to himself that Jaemin gets to hear._

_"I don't want things to change," he tries to mumble through numbed lips. There are bright specks on the edge of his vision that swim towards the center. He blinks once. Twice. They get bigger and bigger._

_"I think everything has already changed, Jaem."_

_And Jaemin_ knows _that. There's a fucking soul mark on his wrist, the dammed circle with a gradient from pink to blue with dots of white. He sees that every day since it first appeared, mocking him unrelentingly during every hour of the day, and whenever Renjun or Jeno would appear with their wrists bare._

_Three when the universe says only two._

_"It doesn't need to change," Jaemin tries to say, shutting his eyes tight. The bright spots grow more and his head hurts._

_"Don't you want them to change, though?"_

_In a perfect world, maybe he would. In a world where they wouldn't be judged, where more than two people could be soulmates and happy. Maybe then, he'd want things to change. But now… now Jaemin can't even_ think _about it. He groans lowering his head, and the talk ends there._

 _He wishes things could be different_ so bad _that it hurts._

🌇

_Their place_ is on the corner of a long-shut down convenience store, the front boarded up for years. Jaemin doesn't remember seeing that store working even from his childhood memories; it has always been closed, tucked away, forgotten by everyone.

When Jaemin arrives, there's already a 1967 Chevy Nova parked at the front. The scratched red paint and the handmade sticker on the back tell him that Jeno had been the first one to get there.

Before Jaemin can even get close Renjun shows up running from around the corner, his legs trying to bring him fast to his destination, mouth parted as he struggles to breathe in, and Jaemin freezes in place.

It’s been a while since they three had been together — since he last saw them in person.

Renjun is the one who grabs his eye first; his hair is longer now and Renjun can nervously tuck it behind his ears, the brown lighter than the usual black he’d sport, his face clean and devoid of the make-up he so much liked to experiment with. But Jaemin imagines that Renjun must have chosen between the make-up or his clothing, because he certainly looks like he’d try to dress up nicely in his tight jeans and dark sweater, combat boots all shiny.

He’s the first one to break the silence. Gasping for air Renjun walks closer to Jeno’s mom’s car and opens the back door, looking straight at Jaemin as he says, “Hey.” His tone is curt and as neutral as it could be. When he turns to face Jeno, his voice gets softer. “Hey, Jen.”

Jeno turns his head back to lookover the seat and he says something, his mouth moving, but Jaemin can’t hear what he says, can’t understand the words that come out of his mouth or even read his lips. It’s been a few months since he last saw Jeno, and though Jaemin had heard old voicemails and watched videos buried at the end of his camera roll Jeno’s voice still knocks the air out of his lungs. He sees Jeno’s mouth moving, he knows he’s saying something, but Jaemin’s brain just can’t process everything at once.

It’s too much, too fast.

Too much.

He still looks the same, like he just rolled out of bed — dark hair messy and falling over his forehead, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, a black hoodie drowning his figure, eyes peering curiously over Renjun's shoulder to look at him, gaze meeting his. Jaemin tries to muster a smile and he's sure it comes out as a grimace; he doesn't have the strength to pretend well.

Renjun slips onto the backseat, muttering something too low for Jaemin to catch and Jaemins follows his lead, closing the door behind him.

"Where to?" Jeno asks, turning to face the front. Jaemin can see his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. There's a song playing lowly in the background, only the beat echoing throughout the interior of the car.

Renjun turns to face him, a question on his face, and Jaemin breathes in deeply. For a moment, it almost feels like they were back in time, like it was just another normal day. But reality comes crashing down around him and he remembers. _Moving away. Last time._

_Last night._

“Let’s watch the stars," he ends up saying, and Jeno turns the ignition on, the roar of the engine drowning the music for a few seconds before Jeno turns the volume up.

Looking through the window the familiar streets are blurry and pass by fast, shitty streetlights barely lighting up the interior of the car. Soon those places will become unfamiliar, turn into a distant memory in the back of his mind. For now though Jaemin can map all the corners and small crevices, the trees he’d climb on with Jeno’s help while he threw fruits down so Renjun could grab them all, laughter echoing down the street as they ran as far as they could, sticky hands clutching each other tightly. In the future, those memories will be nothing more than blurry bits and pieces that will bring a distant nostalgic feeling.

A soft feeling on his cheeks brings him back to the present and makes him look away from the window. With the end of his sleeves, Renjun pulls back from Jaemin’s face, drying his tears away. Jaemin hadn’t realized when they’d started falling, but his eyes still sting and his nose twitches uncomfortably.

The wind is harsh and cold, ruffling their clothes and hair and Jaemin shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath in. His face tingles with the bitter breeze against his skin but he relishes on the feeling — if he closed his eyes tight, he could almost pretend like the wind was carrying away his fears and doubts too. That everything was leaking out of him together with his tears, that he’d open his eyes and feel nothing heavy inside his body, nothing weighing him down.

But that doesn’t happen. Jaemin blinks his eyes open, tears escaping and running down his cheeks, and this time he’s the one to dry them. Renjun’s full attention is upon him and Jaemin doesn’t look away; Renjun had seen him way worse.

 _It’s the last time_ , Jaemin thinks. There’s no reason to keep any walls up when the end is coming quickly.

Renjun’s eyes are teary too, glinting like little diamonds even with the poor light, and Jaemin feels himself getting choked up. He has always been too empathetic, too caring about them all.

“Don’t cry,” Jaemin whispers. The music is loud but he doesn’t doubt that Jeno can hear him easily.

Renjun stares hard at him, huffing as he rubs his eye with the back of his hands. “Shut the fuck _up_.” His voice breaks in the last word but Jaemin doesn’t say anything.

His heart clenches inside his chest, his mouth dry, and Jaemin wants to both look away and stare at Renjun until his last moment. The wind makes his cheeks flush, skin prickle, and when Renjun pulls him close with a hand on the back of his neck, his lips tingle.

Renjun’s other hand is soft against his face, the tip of his fingers barely brushing him, almost as if he’d disappear, and when they pull apart for air, when Jaemin pulls back to wipe his tears with his sleeve, he sees that Jeno is looking at them through the rearview mirror.

The wind doesn’t blow his fears and worries away nor does it dry his tears. Renjun hushes him, murmuring something Jaemin doesn’t quite get and cups his face as his thumbs wipe below his eyes, gathering all the tears away before his mouth is upon his again. Jaemin feels his body shivering and trembling all over; maybe it’s the cold, maybe it isn’t, but Renjun holds him tight and it’s easy and it’s familiar, to fall back into his embrace.

Renjun tastes of love. He always did.

🌇

Jeno parks the car and Jaemin throws the door open before the car stops completely. He scrambles out, knees brushing against the asphalt before he stands up, chest heaving. Ahead of them, there’s a little hill and he runs up, ignoring Renjun’s cry of “ _Jaemin!_ ”.

His lungs burn and his legs almost falter but he keeps going, the wind whistling past his ears, Renjun’s voice becoming distant and drowning in a scream that erupts from his own chest. It echoes through the night before it’s followed by another one — raw, ripped from his very core, making his throat ache. Soon, it evolves into a laugh that comes from the very same place as his scream, bleeding despair, confusion, and anger. It all leaks out from him — through his tears, his voice, his frenzied movements.

His laughs met another in the middle, Jeno’s low voice resounding from behind him, the top of the hill coming closer just as Jeno’s heavy breathing can be heard next to him, and then Jaemin is kneeling on the grass, fingers digging into the dirt as he struggles to fill his lungs with enough air, his mind getting a little light.

The place looks unchanged. The benches where their mothers would sit and wait for them are still there, the trees had only grown taller and bigger, the playground long deserted and full of fallen and dried leaves. Jaemin could come up with a memory for every inch of that place and every memory would be tainted with Jeno or Renjun’s presence.

Jeno falls down on his back next to him, his chest moving up and down fast, lips parted as he stares up at the night sky. Jaemin moves his eyes away when Renjun arrives after them both, shrieking about his legs and a heavy backpack.

 _Watch the stars_ had been their code to running away from their parents, from other people. A code for a meeting with only them three in their own little place, tucked close together and sharing body warmth and a can of beer, laughs spilling from their lips as much as the warm liquid that trickled down their hands, moves getting lazy and heavy with the alcohol they had ingested, secrets leaking out and getting lost in between them and the night breeze.

Renjun drops the backpack on the floor and pulls a pack of warm beer from inside. They shuffle close to him and the backpack, a little circle being formed, and though warm beer sucks ass, Jaemin is glad for something to occupy his mind and his thoughts at least for a while.

There’s a generic song playing from Jeno’s phone while Jeno and Renjun bicker as they struggle to open the beer, and it all makes Jaemin feel sick. His mind spins and he needs to dig his nails into the soft flesh of the palm of his hands to ground himself; it almost feels like a scene from the past where they’d laugh and joke together before messing around when the alcohol clouded their minds and senses, skin being bared for their eyes and the moon — but it isn’t. It isn’t the past and light hearts aren’t present that night.

They down beer after beer. Jeno tries to start a conversation that Renjun picks up, their talk something easy that speaks about a familiarity Jaemin isn’t part of anymore, so Jaemin swallows down bitter beer together with his misery.

When he closes his eyes and feels his hair brushing against his face because of the wind, a song playing in the background, Renjun’s soft voice mixed together with Jeno’s, his fingers grazing the grass underneath him, Jaemin could almost — _almost_ — pretend it’s another time. And, at that moment he isn’t turning twenty and changing universities in the middle of a semester, he isn’t a boy with a heart that he has broken, he isn’t someone who has a colorful circle on his wrist that matches his best friends’.

“Jaemin, do you want another one?”

He blinks his eyes open and he’s all of that — a boy who’s running away and bringing disappointment to everyone, a boy who’s leaving his soulmates behind and lowering his head instead of fighting against the world.

He nods and grabs another beer.

🌇

With alcohol making his head fuzzy and light, Jaemin grins wide. It’s easy to pretend he’s okay and fine when he feels all bubbly inside.

Somehow, they start talking about something and Jaemin laughs easily at anything. But it's always been like that with him — he'd get into a party somber and get happy and giggly throughout it, leaning against Jeno's side and laughing at everything he said, his arms winding around Renjun's neck and bringing him close for a kiss, lips forming a smile against his mouth.

It's easy to get back into the familiar rhythm of listening to Jeno and Renjun's voices as they talk, to dive in the middle of their conversation and share his own ideas and thoughts, to have people carefully listen to his every word. And, with the fake bravery that runs golden through his veins and makes his lips loose, Jaemin doesn't hold himself back as much as he was before.

His laughter escalates the more drink he pours down his throat, the more he gets drunk and intoxicated by Renjun and Jeno's presence around him — it's them and it's always been about them. Their attention and their words, the way they look at him and reach out to take care of him without hesitation in their moves. It all makes his head spin and his heart ache like crazy inside his chest, a question mark burrowing itself between the spaces of his ribcage to keep him forever wondering about _what-ifs._

It could be so easy and yet... it wasn't. It never was. The idea of something could only carry them forward for so long, and Jaemin knows he doesn't have the strength to keep going against what people expect from them. There's a little voice inside his brain, something traitorous and saccharine sweet, something that feeds from the fear and the thoughts deep inside his mind that whispers what renders him into a confusing mess in the middle of the night: _but the universe gave something to you three_. _Not two, but three. What if the strength needed to keep going was found beside them two? What if you're giving up on something you shouldn't?_

But thinking leads only to doubts and worries and things he can't control, so Jaemin swallows it all down and pretends everything is fine. It's the easiest thing to do for them all.

" _Whoa_ , slow down!" Someone says but it falls on deaf ears.

They drink, they laugh, they kiss. Not exactly on that order, but all that Jaemin can think of is the cold wind being blocked by a body against his back, about something warm being pressed against his front. There are hands that run over his body, over his clothes, tentative fingers slipping inside and brushing against his skin. His lips tingle with the force of a mouth being pressed against his, his face being held tight, but Jaemin can only laugh and giggle against the cold lips on his own, drinking them in as much as he possibly could.

It always ends up like that. Even way before, crowded inside a tiny car, going to the next party and promising to each other they wouldn't drink or do anything too crazy that night, it always ended up like that — mouth tasting like bitter alcohol, multicolored lights shining over them, hands exploring each others' bodies.

And even then, it also ends up like that. Jaemin laughs because that's the only thing he can do besides utter familiar names, because the bubbling inside his own belly spreads through his body and takes over the crawling under his skin, allowing him to feel something else besides despair. Jaemin laughs and warm puffs of air graze his neck, his skin, his mouth. He laughs and they laugh back too.

" _Jaem._ "

He sniffs and scrunches up his nose, drying a stray tear with the end of his sleeve. With his eyes closed, he can't see their faces. He can't judge their expressions and wonder what they're thinking about. But, even with his eyes shut tight, Jaemin can discern each other from their touch alone, their scent, the pattern of their breathing; he'd spent enough time mapping each one of their mannerisms, their little things. He'd recognize them in a heartbeat.

It's dizzying, and electrifying, and entirely maddening. Jeno tastes sweet from Renjun's chapstick and bitter from the alcohol, but his kisses are different and he does things with his tongue he'd never done before, and Jaemin feels his stomach turn with the thought of Jeno learning all those things with other people besides him.

Renjun is the one who pulls back first and scrambles to sit straight, his back against a tree as he searches inside the backpack, pulling a water bottle and downing its entire content in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing up. Jaemin blinks his eyes open when he takes a few steps away and stops in place — the shitty lights suddenly seem too bright and his vision swims around him. He pushes Jeno to the side and tries to get up, stumbling around before he kneels down.

"I think I might throw up," he announces, lowering his head.

His stomach churns uncomfortably and opening his eyes seems to have been a mistake — he feels split in half. Half of him still rides the euphoric waves and is being bombarded with nice sensations, fireworks being set off inside his veins, but the other half of him has started to get overwhelmed by everything that's happening.

It has been months since he last saw Jeno and Renjun and now he'd kissed them both. And worst of all — he's sure that any feelings he might have buried deep inside have resurfaced. He could feel them thrumming through his body.

Hands caress his face gently and brush his hair back. A water bottle is given to him and opened when he flounders with the cap. He gulps the liquid down and tries to regain his breathing back, trying to ignore the tingling sensation on his lips.

Jeno's voice is so soft and so light that it could have almost been blown away by the wind, but Jaemin still hears him say, "We could try to make things work, can’t we?" It's timid and tentative and on guard. Jaemin pretends he doesn't hear him and throws his head back, drinking more water.

🌇

All bad feelings are washed away after they start drinking again and finish all the beer that was inside Renjun's backpack. By then Jaemin is feeling all high and happy again, laughing and giggling at the smallest of things, nudging Jeno's side with his fingers until the other is laughing so much that tears stream down his face.

The stars are out and the moon shines bright. Their town is small enough that the lights coming from the buildings don't disturb the view too much, but Jaemin still wonders how it would be like to gaze at the night view surrounded by pure darkness; he wonders how bright the constellations would be.

Though tipsy — maybe getting into the drunk territory already —, they leave the old hill behind them and stumble into the empty streets of the town, the car staying in the dusty parking lot alone. It's a half walk, half being dragged by other hands. They support each other's weights, hands around shoulders, hips pressed against one another, and Jaemin is sucked into another memory from the past.

He'd gotten used to walking alone down the streets, only him and stray cats as the only souls awake at 3 in the morning, when the sun gave no hint yet of coming up. But walking by their side makes him think of times when that had been part of their routine — nightly escapades and drunkenly walks back home. And usually involving tears and repressed emotions.

This time, Jaemin laughs out loud and it's something that hadn't happened since he got his soulmate mark. This time, Jeno and Renjun don't drag him drunk and out of his mind, cursing the world and himself, waging empty threats at the universe. This time, they're just as gone as him, and their laughter mixes together in the dead of the night, hands clutching each other tightly as the moon lowers itself down on the sky together with their time.

The night wouldn't last forever nor would they.

They end up in an old playground next to a small church, the streetlights being their only source of lightning. There are no cars on the streets and Jeno doesn't look at both sides before he holds Jaemin's hand in his and drags him towards the swing, getting himself ready behind it.

With no hesitation in their moves, it's almost as if they hadn't spent any time apart. Jeno lets him swing first because he knows how Jaemin likes it, and he gets ready to push him because he also knows how he always competes against Renjun about who'd go higher. Jaemin almost hesitates before he sits on the cold seat, but Jeno's hands are around the chains of the swing and he's getting ready to push him without waiting for him to get ready on his own time, so Jaemin lets himself go.

They laugh and they scream and they bicker. Jaemin feels his chest burn just as much as his eyes. Jeno tells them about his mother's messy divorce and Renjun confesses about how he quit his job in the old gas station just last week even though his parents tried to convince him otherwise. Jaemin talks about his father's hobby of collecting stamps, about how they had traveled to another city just to meet up with an old lady who was selling her collection — he doesn't talk about his major or university; he doesn't talk about what would happen in a few hours or themselves.

The talk ends just as it starts to get a little more serious and they bring back the high with some exchanged glances and drunks giggles. The wind bites his cheek and ruffles his hair but Jeno and Renjun are right there to fix the wild strands and bring some warmth back to his cold fingers.

And everything feels like a knife made of ice that gets lodged in between his ribs; as it starts to melt the cold gets inside his own body and consumes him entirely. The drunk high leaves him to welcome with open arms the feeling of being empty and the yearning for something he knows he cannot have. The universe says that people only have one soulmate in this life, and Jaemin wonders what were the chances of him getting the same exact mark as his two best friends.

Maybe it was always meant to end like that — in heartbreak and one having to leave to make space. Maybe it had always been their destiny.

🌇

When the dark night sky starts to make space for the purples and blues, they go back to their little hill. This time they roam the streets in silence and with the weight of something heavy hanging over their shoulders, getting ready to fall upon them at any minute.

 _"Just for one last time,_ " Jaemin had said on the phone, hours ago. It felt both like a lifetime away and minutes ago. He could almost picture that exact moment if he closed his eyes — his room messy, a hoodie threw over his bed, his luggage still open on his bedroom floor, the admission letter sitting on his desk, almost untouched.

How does one leave behind a life? How does one turn their back on the people who'd always been by your side and, after you shut them out, still were there waiting for you?

Jaemin wishes he could close his eyes and jump already to the future, to skip the painful part of where he breaks and hurts the people he cares for the most once more. Before he lodges the knife a little deeper.

But the universe had never been fair to him. From the moment he woke up on his seventeenth birthday to a mark that should've been in only one other wrist to that very moment when he needs to leave again, the universe never cared for him and what he wanted.

As the skies start to brighten, the clouds don't leave. It's not a perfect view, not a perfect ending. There's no beautiful sunrise to be shared in the end. The sky is full of grey clouds that won't let the gold light shine in between them. Among the grass with morning dew and old trees, Jaemin breathes in the new day that marks the rest of his life. He thinks he should feel something, but he can't feel a single thing at the moment even though his eyes well up with tears and his nose clogs up again.

“Do you think things could have been different?” Jeno whispers, breaking the silence between them. Jaemin swallows heavily, feeling his stomach turn; that had always been on the back of his mind, a question he didn't want to dive deep in, a question he didn't want to try and think about.

Maybe things could've been different — he could've listened more, researched more, tried to reach out to others and understand the situation better than to run away. But he had made his choice already and there was nothing he could do about it.

And, maybe, things could be different in the future. Though he tries not to think too much about what life would bring towards him, Jaemin hopes for some healing and peace in the days that are still to come.

Renjun's breath hitches and he clears his throat. Jaemin's heart stutters in place one second before Renjun speaks, already knowing he'd speak up, but it still makes his fingers dig deep into the dirt and his eyes sting, “Jaemin, we could still try, we—”

“No, Renjun.” Jaemin cuts him short. If they talked enough, if they begged enough, he fears he could change his mind. Running away is the only certainty he has — if they took that away from him, what else would he have?

The silence hangs heavy over them before Jeno shakes his head. “It's not fair,” he says. “Not fair at all.” He turns to look at him and Jaemin feels one tear run down his cheek. With red-rimmed eyes and bitten lips, Jeno continues shaking his head as he repeats, "This is not fair," before he cups one side of Jaemin's face and gives him a bruising kiss.

He's not gentle and he doesn't hold back, lips exploring the extension and mapping every curve and dip, swallowing his sighs and tasting his tears. Jeno who'd been always soft, always sweet, always careful, it's all but that right now, and Jaemin knows it's his fault.

The void inside of him vanishes and makes way for something heavier — anguish. It clings to his bones and makes his head _hurt_.

What if. What if. _What if._

“You hurt us. Are you hurting too?” Renjun asks, his voice breathy and small. The sun hasn't fully come out yet, but the clouds are turning yellow and gold and the birds are singing somewhere far away.

There's no hesitation in him about his answer. “ _Yes_.”

A sob erupts itself from Jeno's chest just as Renjun chuckles wetly, voice wrecked with tears.

“Good.”

🌇

It starts to rain after Jaemin closes the front door of his house. He takes a hot shower, puts on comfortable clothes, and finishes packing his things, bidding good morning to his mother when she puts her head inside his bedroom.

It takes almost no time to fill his dad's car with his things, his back pocket heavy with the admission letter inside it, fingers fiddling with the phone in his lap. Sitting on the backseat and strapped in, Jaemin isn't surprised by the sight he sees through the window — he isn't surprised, but he also marvels at the fact they are really _there_.

It's through a foggy window and with raindrops running down, mud splattered at the bottom, that Jaemin watches Jeno and Renjun until the car turns around the corner. They don't get close to say goodbye, huddled together under one yellow umbrella, but Jaemin feels his phone vibrating with notifications from their group chat. He doesn't open it.

He stares down at the phone and silences the notifications from the group. It doesn't make the numbers disappear, the little _17_ still showing on the side, and though Jaemin's thumb hovers over it, he doesn't click to open the convo. He can't — not until he's far away enough. And he doesn't want to cry in front of his parents, not anymore. He knows they must have had an idea of what happened; after all, his face is puffy and eyes red, lips still swollen, but they don't ask questions and Jaemin doesn't say a thing.

Now, he's going to start a new chapter in his life. His future is just as stormy as the weather outside, still undecided. He only hopes to not have made a bad decision.

Being far away makes it easier for him to ignore messages. It's easier to walk down on unfamiliar streets and not fear bumping on someone he knows, to fear walking into something that would make him cry back at his home. It's not painless and it's not a nice beginning, but Jaemin ends up settling in in his new routine and gets used to the new people that surround his daily life.

Though the group chat stays untouched, Jaemin watches as the numbers slowly go up until it becomes almost too much — they increase too quickly, too fast, and all the possibilities of what they might be about makes him unable to click and read all of the content.

He doesn't click on it but he doesn't need to. Days later, his wrist burns so much that it makes him unable to open his hand without hissing because of the pain. He stares down at the circle on his wrist, the gradient between pink and blue and the white dots; it still looks the same, but it hurts so bad that Jaemin starts to worry that there's something wrong with him — he worries until his phone dings with a message from his mother and Jaemin has his entire world crash down around him, dread filling his guts and making him feel dizzy. Soul marks are supposed to hurt only because of one thing, after all.

_Mom:  
Jaemin, sweetheart, you need to come back quickly. Something happened. Can I call you? I need to speak with you, I can't just say this through a text._

_Please, it's urgent._

**Author's Note:**

> [ [twt](https://twitter.com/pinkhrj) | [ccat](https://curiouscat.me/rensungie) ]


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